


Reptilian Versace

by EdosianOrchid



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Falling In Love, Gratuitous descriptions of dudes dressing nicely, Julian is an anxious twink, M/M, basically Garak is still a Cardassian but for some reason he's hiding on Earth, re-imagined Cardassian features (small changes)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchid/pseuds/EdosianOrchid
Summary: “I believe you are in need of a new shirt… an umbrella as well.”Twisting his neck all of a sudden and almost snapping it accidentally, Julian finds himself looking at the scheming figure of a tailor standing at the door of his shop with laughing eyes, wide open to reveal irises colored the antique gold of a reptile. A blink, two, and his pupils narrow to an upright slit.Or: Julian Bashir is a young (and very clumsy) doctor living in a small town, and he’s almost certain that the eccentric local tailor in his neighborhood is an undercover reptilian alien.





	Reptilian Versace

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sorry for this.
> 
> **ORIGINALLY POSTED IN SEPTEMBER 2018 AND RE-EDITED IN MAY 2019**
> 
> ~~Be aware that I am not a native english speaker.~~
> 
> **/!\ DISCLAIMER /!\ I do not own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.**

 

Saying that Julian Bashir is a very clumsy young man is the understatement of the century.

So, when Julian spills his takeaway coffee on his brand-new white shirt in a crowded street, it comes as no surprise. He simply stops dead in his tracks to stare straight up into the falling rain, heaving a loud sigh.

“I believe you are in need of a new shirt… an umbrella as well.”

Twisting his neck all of a sudden and almost snapping it accidentally, Julian finds himself looking at the scheming figure of a tailor standing at the door of his shop with laughing eyes, wide open to reveal irises colored the antique gold of a reptile. A blink, two, and his pupils narrow to an upright slit.

“I certainly have what you need inside my shop. Are you coming in, my dear?” the tailor asks with an overly polite voice and a huge stretching smile, gesturing Julian to come in.

Julian might or might not have seen a slim tongue flicking out of the tailor’s mouth, so very, very clearly a lizard-man.

He drops his gaze on his soiled shirt, the rain starting to fall harder on him, a few rain droplets flow through his wavy brown locks and on his back. _Shit._

Julian takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at the tailor again, and finally have a heart attack for the first time in his life, which is also an understatement because Julian is an anxious fuck ninety percent of the time. So, he looks up, and only now two regular blue eyes are peering at him with great interest, golden reptile eyes are gone. The tailor is still smiling widely at him, no lizard tongue slips out of his thin lips this time.

Is this what a psychotic break feels like?

As the one and only doctor owning a medical office in that small town, there’s never not enough work. This is when Julian is the happiest though, when he could relieve pain and fix what’s wrong in his patients’ bodies.

However, Julian could use at least more than four hours of sleep at night and a coffee detox.

He’s known the tailor for some time now, only by name, sight and reputation which is quite something.

Garak, the esteemed and gifted tailor, a lover of art and culture and a very helpful generous donator at the local charities. Garak, the always polite and pleasant local figure at the supermarket, the park, the bank, the library, the museum, the bar- Really, the man is beyond reproach. _Not human_ , a small voice whispers at the back of Julian’s head.

Garak is also one of these surreal beings, always physically impeccable, with his long and straight black hair, perfectly tied back with a lustrous ribbon into a low pony tail falling on his back and refining a bit his round face. Currently wearing a clean blue-green suit with leather edges on the jacket, a midnight blue shirt highlighting his light blue eyes and buttoned all the way to the top with a dark tie worn tight on his long and large neck.

“I-Okay,” Julian stutters lost in his thoughts, and the tailor’s Cheshire cat smile widens even more.

Miles has been right all along about his lack of survival instincts.

Once, he wore flip-flops while walking on a cliff. Don’t wear flip-flops on a cliff.

Julian steps forward and walks past the tailor, ignoring the small shiver going from his neck down to his spine. He also pretends he hasn’t seen Garak shift back the “ _CLOSED_ ” sign now facing the street as he closes the door’s shop.

Still holding his half-empty cheap takeaway coffee in one hand, the brownish spot on his ruined shirt soaking his torso, Julian stands in the middle of the dark room with a dumbfounded look pinned on his face as he scans the display racks full of self-made and awfully expensive clothes.

He clears his throat, scratching his head awkwardly and wanting to be entirely swallowed by the neatly shined wooden floor under his feet.

“It's Doctor Bashir, isn't it? Of course, it is. May I introduce myself?” the tailor enquires as he walks up to Julian who takes a small wary backward step, hoping it would go unnoticed.

Julian is about an inch taller but the slight heels on Garak’s shiny moccasins push his height further up.

The tailor eyes him with a sharp eagle-eye and he claps his hands excitedly in front of him, making Julian flinches a bit as he holds back a curse.

He chews the inside of his cheek. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“My name is Garak. I appreciate making new friends whenever I can and today is your lucky day my dear Doctor, I have something that would be the perfect fit for you!” Garak chirps with stubborn cheerfulness.

“Huh. You’re very kind Mister Garak,” Julian huffs with a faint smile.

“Oh, it's just Garak. Plain, simple Garak. Now, let me take _this_ ,” Garak says as he takes the crumpled paper cup in his hand. Julian could feel the tailor’s body radiating with excessive warmth.

As the wary doctor he is, Julian wants to ask Garak if he could check his temperature but every fiber in his body are screaming at him to shut his mouth for once and maybe his mind has suddenly decided to have a major meltdown.

Garak puts his burning and heartening hand on his shoulder- is it okay for a shoulder to blush? Because from where Garak is touching him, Julian swears on his medical degree that the spot would probably be red. If a shoulder can blush, what does his face look like right now?

The tailor asks him in almost old gleefully cackling-supervillain tones, if he could follow him to another room so Julian trails after the tailor, feeling his knees turn to jelly under his weight as he stumbles behind Garak.

“Here, the back of the shop is safe from prying eyes.”

Julian’s heart races with uncertainty.

“Why does it matter?”

“Take off your shirt.”

“ _What?_ ”

Garak turns around and for a moment Julian thinks he catches a glint of reptilian gold in the man’s eyes. It’s there and gone in a heartbeat. Then, the tailor just stares at him with his two piercing, _mocking_ blue eyes. Does he act like this on purpose? Garak’s amusing gaze wobbles down on the coffee stain drying on his shirt.

Oh.

Julian immediately babbles like a five years old. “Y- yes, of course! I’m here to change my shirt with your help- I mean, not that you’re going to actually help me change myself but you’re going to give me another shirt! Of course, not actually giving it to me since you’re a respectable tailor owning a business here and I’m going to pay-”

“What a thoughtful young man. How nice that we've met!” Garak cuts him off, vibrating with intensity. “I don’t need your money though, I’m merely helping you from the goodness of my heart,” he adds, waving his hand like he could sweep the words from the air.

Then Garak draws this same hand before him, his scaly palm open-

Wait.

Scales? Grey scales?

Aren’t how they called? The greys?

Julian blinks sluggishly at the tailor’s extending hand but he sees nothing out of the ordinary, regular skin that looks pleasantly smooth. 

Somehow, the lighting of the room is brighter here and seems to momentarily reveal things that can't be noticed easily in the darkness of the shop.

Julian swallows the ball in his throat (and musters up his balls) as he lifts his soiled shirt above his head and gives it to Garak with a hesitating grip.

He feels terribly self-conscious as the always smiling tailor shoots him a blazing look on his very, _very_ shirtless torso.

“If you will excuse me, my dear. I will come back shortly,” Garak announces with an exaggerated low voice before disappearing in the blink of an eye with Julian’s cup and his shirt.

Julian finds himself all alone in the room, the stifling atmosphere doesn’t even make him regret not wearing anything on his back.

He starts pacing around the room nervously, chewing the inside of his cheek again and feeling more coming out of the biting. If he opens his mouth again, a geyser of blood would come out exactly like in the elevator scene from  _The Shining_.

His phone starts to vibrate with insistence in one of the pockets of his jean. He takes it out, reading the name of his flat-mate _“Miles”_ on the small screen. Julian thumbs the green button to take the call and answer his friend as quietly as possible.

“Hi?”

_“Julian, what the fuck are you doing? You forgot your medical suitcase like the moron you are, so I brought it at your office and your secretary told me you were still not here.”_

“Ah, I’m fine Miles. I think so.”

_“What the hell does it mean? Why are you whispering? Where the fuck are you, idiot?”_

“I spilled coffee on my shirt and I didn’t have any umbrella with me so Garak invited me inside and now I’m waiting alone in that room, his private workshop I guess…”

_“Garak? The tailor?”_

“Yes?”

The silence that ensues is deafening.

_“Goddamnit Julian!”_

“What?”

_“That spoonhead is the creepiest fucker I’ve ever talked to!”_

“Spoonhead?”

_“Yeah, that creepy bump on his rounded forehead.”_

“I only noticed the glowing yellow eyes but-“

_“The what?”_

“Yeah, and the flicking tongue that goes out of his-“

_“Julian, get the fuck out.”_

“I can’t Miles, I’m shirtless.”

_“You’re fucking what?”_

Rapid footsteps are approaching.

_“Julian-"_

“I have to hang up now.”

Miles clicks his tongue in annoyance at the other end of the line. _“I fucking swear-“_

“Later, Miles.”

Julian hangs up and quickly slips the phone back in his pocket. Garak reappears with a moist wipe and what seems to be an overpriced shirt on a shiny wooden hanger.

“ _This,_ will make you into a new man,” Garak sings in a delighted voice as he hands over the piece of moist wipe to Julian who takes it and brushes his sticky naked chest with it. Garak takes it back the second Julian finishes cleaning himself and slides it in one the front pockets of his fancy jacket.

Is he going to collect his DNA? Julian heard the legendary Giorgio A. Tsoukalos explained it once, on History Channel.

Garak places the new shirt still on the hanger, over Julian’s chest. “It is, in a sense, a blessing that you ruined that piece of cloth you were wearing earlier.”

Julian sulks just a little. “…Thanks?”

The tailor carefully takes the shirt off the hanger and hands it over to Julian who puts it on, the silk fabric slipping easily on his skin.

Garak points out a mirror next to them and Julian goes to peer at his own reflection.

Wow.

It’s better. It’s much, much better, not too large, not too close-fitting and it suits him, even the high collar on his neck with the displayed top button. The gentle auburn mix of gold tones and the abstract tribe print, the long sleeves finished with buttoned cuffs.

Julian can't stop grinning as his eyes are truly mesmerized by the reflection of his new shirt.

“Mister- I mean Garak, it’s _amazing_!”

Suddenly, Garak is directly behind him and Julian notices how the tailor actually smells unbelievably _good_ , an addictive scent of without any doubt, a luxurious perfume that would require a scandalous price increase of his medical consultations to buy himself a single bottle.

Or maybe, is it some alien pheromones?

“I’m glad, I could help Doctor,” the tailor replies with a fond smile as he leans forward to gently pat the fabric on Julian’s chest and his back.

Julian feels himself falter, as if ten years of his life have just been taken away.

“It highlights your brown skin and the delightful color of your eyes with perfection, my dear,” Garak almost whispers in his ear as he adjusts the fabric right above Julian’s waist.

He definitely has just lost another ten years of his life.

Heat is creeping into the tips of his ears. Nobody has ever said anything like that to him before. Some part of him has turned really warm and it just isn’t his embarrassment-flushed ears.

Julian swallows hard and faces Garak, desperately trying not to choke on his own saliva. Garak smiles, his lampshade illuminating his obvious reptile features. Julian wonders why he hasn’t run away yet.

Is this some sort of reptilian magnetism? Or is he just incredibly dumb?

Probably both.

“How much do I owe you?” Julian asks politely. _Will I have a ten years debt?_ he wants to add out loud.

“You heard me, Doctor. There is no need for you to pay! Consider this a gift from my part to celebrate the beginning of an interesting friendship,” Garak answers, with a subtle authority dripping in his tone.

“But-“

“I must _insist_.”

“Mister- Garak, you can’t possibly-“

“How about dinner?”

Julian feels like someone has just replaced his blood with lava, as he realizes how close and how hopeful and how _inhuman_ Garak’s face is. He notices the small bump on his forehead that Miles mentioned earlier, and he honestly finds it _cute_.

“What?”

“Yes, dinner. My dear, if you feel like you owe me back something for such a simple favor, then a dinner in your company would be more than sufficient as far as I am concerned.”

Julian is _speechless_. Something that deserves to be marked on a calendar as a celestial miracle. Because Garak has said this in a rather assertive voice, not too creepily to make him flee like a frightened child but enough to make it really _hot_. All right, okay, what the actual fuck? Something is really off with him today. Maybe it’s because of the lack of sleep? Alien hypnosis? Who knows, life just loves to fuck you up sometimes.

“Fuc- _Fine_! Uh, I mean _fine_!” Julian whimpers out, eyeing the wooden floor with insistence and silently praying to be finally swallowed under it.

“Very good, doctor. We meet at seven o’clock at ‘The Aroma Orchid’ tonight then.” 

Um, hello? Yeah, Julian needs help with something. It’s uh… what’s it called again? Oh right, eye contact.

Garak gives out a grin that Julian could mistake for being snake-shaped.

Julian nods in agreement and Garak starts walking back to the front shop, gesturing Julian to follow after the fabulous clacking sound of his moccasins on the floor, body prancing, hips swinging.

_Clack Clack Clack clack_

Julian is impressed, fascinated, inspired.

The tailor opens the door and gently lets him slip out outside.

The rain is still drizzling down the streets and the residences.

Julian tries so hard to not let out a sigh of relief for surviving this real life Twilight Zone episode. His vision could go black and white at any instant with Rod Serling popping out of nowhere, and he wouldn't even be surprised.

“It was a pleasure meeting you my dear and I’m looking forward to our dinner,” Garak jubilates with a smile that could take out enemies a mile away.

Julian smiles back, hoping that he doesn’t look dead inside. “Likewise, see you tonight Garak.”

He starts walking or rather stumbling away when Garak calls after him.

“Doctor!”

Julian turns around, _dreading_.

“You forget your umbrella,” Garak alerts him, playfully quirking an almost inexistent eyebrow.

“Oh.” Julian manages to choke out.

Garak hands him over a small portable umbrella and Julian almost yelps when the tailor’s hand brushes his own. _Scales_. The skin that just touched his is definitely not human despite the smooth appearance and Julian couldn't bring himself to gasp in fear because all he wants to do right now is to touch it, to feel the odd texture again...

Part of Julian is desperately curious to see if the rest of his skin feels like this too.

He could cry. His lips are tingling. Everything is tingling.

He's not crazy.

“Uh, thank you, Garak,” Julian says with what he feels is admirable calm. Earlier, he has felt his blood turning into lava but right now his insides feel like going supernova. 

The tailor bows slightly, an unusual gesture around here, Julian notices before walking fast away to his medical office.

He tries very hard to digest the fact that he has just accepted a date with a most likely alien lizard, who probably plans to annihilate Earth and the whole human population with his bowing and scraping and his lethal sense of fashion.

Opening his new umbrella after a few minutes struggling with the clutch bag wrapped around, Julian curses all the deities he remembers from history class when he realizes that there’s a flashy watermelon pattern on the impermeable fabric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've never wrote something hopelessly trash for these two, before.
> 
> I really love the idea of Garak hiding in the human world, as some kind of a reptilian motherfucker fucking with Julian's twink mind and act like a super generous sugar daddy who loves to sew haute-couture clothes and walk like Beyonce in his shiny heeled shoes.  
>    
> Outfits inspiration: [[x](http://www.brcmcc.co.uk/versace-collection-gold-city-silk-shirt-3438hchw-mens-clothing-p-2873.html)] and [[x](https://pl.aliexpress.com/item/Runway-Fashion-Dark-Green-Men-Suits-Black-Shawl-Lapel-Blazer-Wedding-Prom-Tuxedos-Slim-Fit-2/32712718726.html)]
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT: I deleted the following chapters and I changed a few stuff in this one. I don't know if I'll add a proper ending to this story but right now I'm satisfied with the one-shot format.**
> 
>  
> 
> [[Twitter](http://twitter.com/chekthefuckov)] [[Tumblr](http://fuckyourstupideyebrows.tumblr.com)]


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